


Faster, Colder, Sharper

by Penned



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Body Horror, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Kid Tony Stark, Kidnapping aftermath, M/M, Medical Torture, Psychological Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7641718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penned/pseuds/Penned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is kidnapped by Hydra. When the team gets him back, he has changed far more than they suspect. More than even the surface shows.</p><p>Bucky though, he notices it all.  </p><p>A de-aged Tony fic with Bucky as a caretaker... of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faster, Colder, Sharper

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a de-aged fic. I also wanted to write an "after the kidnapping" fic. This whole story was originally written with Tony as an adult but somehow it wasn't working so I ended up mashing these two concepts together and... Here we are.
> 
> This is not a cute story, despite the de-aged aspect. There is absolutely no sexual content in this fic. All warnings are for violence and torture (mostly non-graphic and mostly in dreams). Please read the tags.

They find him alive three weeks later, almost to the hour he’d first been taken.

He is in an old hospital, strapped down to a dirty surgical table with his head shaved and the thin skin of his scalp still pink and healing.

Bucky kicks aside the dead scientists, completely uncaring of the blood and viscera that stains his boots, and freezes over Tony’s prone body.

It isn’t the evidence of torture that stops him from touching Tony; not the broken skin at his throat, wrists or ankles, nor the torn flesh of his lips that Bucky is sure he bit open himself. It isn’t the evidence of tears down his cheeks or the glassy blank stare – that familiar vacant gaze that Bucky knows all too well.

None of that matters, really, against the heart-stopping horror before him.

Bucky looks down at the familiar face and screams for Steve, for Bruce, for _anyone_ to come and help.

Tony Stark, the man who built and powered Iron Man, was now a child.

###

The scientists and experts cannot seem to agree on Tony’s age.

He is small, fine-boned with delicate features, but his mind is far more advanced than any child tested before, surpassing even his own old scores and aptitude tests. Tony may be four or five years-old but he speaks in full, articulate sentences and quietly observes the world with his large, dark eyes, assessing and cataloging before answering questions.

He is almost painfully well-mannered, allowing the doctors to take blood from his thin limbs, or examine the incisions on his head without complaint. Bruce supervises each interaction closely and his presence keeps the team calm, knowing that Tony is safe with one of their own.

In the debriefing, Bruce explains how preliminary examinations show alterations to Tony’s brain, how Hydra had carved into the famed mind and altered certain areas _after_ the transformation. He doesn’t have to tell them Tony was tortured as a child; it’s clear enough.

The team, along with Pepper, listens in shock and disbelief as Bruce makes a gentle plea for patience on Tony’s behalf.

_He may never be who he was. He may not ever be the same man we knew._

Bucky says nothing as everyone begins to ask rapid-fire questions at the doctor, none of which Bruce has a firm response for. All they really know, aside from the physical alterations, is that Tony has no memory of his past – absolutely no recollection of Howard or Maria or Jarvis, and certainly none of them.

As far as Tony knows, he emerged fully formed in the dirty, dusty rooms Hydra kept him in.

As the team talks over themselves, Bucky stares through the glass wall where Tony is being kept. He is wearing pajamas despite it being only the afternoon, and sitting on the edge of a hospital bed staring down at a tablet with an intensity that belies his supposed age. Despite the bright, cheerful colors of his clothing, he looks far too tired for a small child. His legs swing back and forth and his tiny mouth is set in a pout.

He is fragile and small and something inside Bucky’s chest twists painfully.

He stands there watching, even as the others file out the room.

“Bucky,” Steve says quietly behind him, “Buck, this isn’t on you. This wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky ignores him.

He knows it’s a lie.

###

He’d been fighting side by side with Tony, listening to his teasing and joking, when he’d been struck hard on the side of the head. A wave of soldiers had come after him then and by the time he’d fought them all down, all that was left of Iron Man was an empty suit and fresh splatters of blood.

###

There are no other anomalies in Tony’s biological samples and no trace of magic according to Thor. Outside of the team, a few select experts and Hydra, no one knows that Tony has been changed.

No one is sure what to do next.

“Okay, enough is enough. We can’t keep him locked up in that room,” Clint says firmly. “He’s just a little kid. He’s one of _us_.”

Pepper and Natasha weave a tapestry of lies to the world, Bruce and Thor scour their resources in search of an answer, and Steve and Rhodey make decisions on what to do with Tony as a child. Sam tries to ensure Tony is given toys and games, that the tests he undergoes never get too invasive or stressful.

Bucky spends the time hitting modified punching bags in the gym.

When Tony’s new room on the communal floor is ready, filled with all the things a child could need or want, Bruce leads him into the living room by hand and introduces everyone with a gentle smile. They all try to seem unassuming and unthreatening, making sure to soften their overall demeanors. Thor tells him he’s sure they will have a lot of fun playing games together, Clint gets on his knees and shakes Tony’s small hand carefully, and Natasha gives him a genuine smile.  

Steve offers him a teddy bear – a soft, plush thing Bucky knows he intended to be a source of comfort, and Tony studies it with a grave expression before taking it with a polite ‘thank you’ and clutching it to his chest with one arm.

And then Bruce introduces Bucky.

The entire room seems to hold its breath as Tony’s thin face pales and his dark eyes grow wide at the sight of him, at his _arm._

For one awful moment, Bucky thinks he will scream or cry. The small body shakes; Bucky’s own throat closes up and his heart feels as if it has stopped altogether.

In a small, wondering voice Tony says, “They took you too, didn’t they?”

Feeling cold all over, Bucky nods.

###

In his nightmares, Bucky is fighting the soldiers still, trying to get back to Tony, to keep him from being taken. He watches in horror as monsters with claws and blood-red eyes rip into the suit and pull out Tony as a child, crying in terror and pain.

“Help me!” Tony shrieks. His eyes are wild and his mouth is open in a rictus. He is struggling against the shadows as they drag him away. “Bucky, don’t let them take me. Help me, Bucky, help me!”

Bucky wakes up screaming so hard his throat hurts for hours afterwards.

###

To everyone’s surprise, Tony latches onto Bucky.

At first, they all watch him closely, afraid that his patience will be tested by the small, quiet boy that follows at his heels. Though it’s been nearly a year since Steve brought Bucky in, he is still an unknown entity to most of them. He joins their meals, watches weekly movies with them, fights alongside them during battles, but for the most part he is a silent shadow drifting down the halls and open rooms.

Despite all of that, no one really says anything when Tony curls his tiny hand into the fabric of Bucky’s pants and trails behind him. With one arm curled securely around his bear, Tony seems content to go where Bucky goes.

(Clint corners him one day when Tony is being examined by the doctors. With cold eyes and a grim expression, he tells Bucky, “You lost him once. You hurt him like this, none of us will hesitate to cut your fucking head off.”)

For his part, Bucky takes more care in where he goes and what he does. He only visits the gym at night, when Tony is sleeping. Beside the punching bag, JARVIS keeps a projection trained on Tony's bed so Bucky can keep an eye on him. He stays in the library for longer, letting Tony skim the titles before settling into a plush couch so he can read out loud while Bucky sits beside him, content to listen. He sits in the kitchen for all his meals so Tony can take his time to eat, the healing skin on his fingers and palms making it difficult for him to hold a fork or a spoon for too long.

Out of all of them, Steve tries the hardest to play with Tony, to connect with him as he is now. He takes Tony outside, baseball caps pulled low over their faces, and they go to the park, to the zoo, to museums. Tony always goes halfheartedly, held securely in Steve's arms but looking back over his shoulder with a worried expression at Bucky who is still uncomfortable around crowds.

When he comes home, he always rushes back to Bucky, arms open in a silent plea to be picked up and held and Bucky finds he cannot deny the child a thing. Not when Tony is still so painfully thin, and his growing hair doesn’t quite cover the pink scars and black stitches on his scalp.

When Tony was a man, Bucky knows he and Steve were close. But Bucky remembers the way Steve’s gaze would follow the other man, the way his mouth would twist down – a smile gone wrong, whenever Tony flirted and teased his way around a room full of other people.

Bucky can see the way Steve looks at Tony now, heartbroken and lost, another future he hoped for taken away from him.

This too, Bucky knows, is his fault.

###

Bucky dreams that he is choking Maria in the car. Beside her, Howard’s broken, bloody face stares at his wife’s impending death. He can feel her struggle, the way her life clings to her body even as his hand tightens and his fingers dig into her flesh.

When he looks down, it is Tony’s neck in his hand, his small fingers trying to pull Bucky’s hand away.

Bucky tries to let go, lets out an anguished cry but he cannot move.

Tony’s large, dark eyes look up at him in death. Open and accusing.

Sobbing, he wakes with tears on his cheeks.

###

“He’s testing off the charts,” Bruce tells them one day. “He can solve advanced physics problems – equations even Hawking struggled with. He can apparently read at least five different languages.”

It worries them, how smart Tony is and how quiet he remains. Beyond ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ Tony rarely speaks to them. He doesn’t ask for much, eats what Bucky feeds him, and doesn’t show any sign of impatience or annoyance when he is made to endure more examinations.

(Bucky watches those sessions now instead of Bruce. He stares at the doctors like a silent, grim sentinel and they handle Tony with more gentleness and _speed_ than before.)

“He’s just so quiet,” Rhodey says worriedly. “I knew his childhood wasn’t the best and maybe there’s some of that residual crap left over in his memory but… This is different. He’s still just a boy – a child.”

“He doesn’t laugh or play when we go out,” Steve says, looking down at his hands. “He barely smiles. Doesn’t run around unless I suggest it, and even then… He just doesn’t seem happy.”

Bucky sits at the table, letting them talk, and looks down at the tablet in his hands.

On the screen, Tony is building _something_ out of a jumble of parts, his hands moving quickly and confidently. In his bright blue t-shirt, kiddie overalls, and mismatched socks, he looks like any other boy playing with his favorite toys. Occasionally, as Bucky watches, Tony will ask JARVIS a question, tilting his small face up at the ceiling and grinning sweetly when JARVIS responds. If left to his own devices, Tony will amuse himself – as long as he knows where Bucky is.

When he does not, Tony will curl into himself and sit quietly until Bucky returns.

“Let’s ask the current Tony-whisperer what he thinks.”

Bucky looks up to find everyone staring at him. Clint’s pale blue eyes are narrowed slightly and Natasha’s expression is as sharp as a knife’s edge. Pepper’s elegant face is serene but there is steel in her gaze and fury in the set of her jaw.

He knows they blame him.

How could they not?

“We’re worried about him,” Bruce says gently. “Does he say anything to you? Do anything indicative of more damage than we think?”

“You were the closest to our brother when he was of age and the only one he seems to trust now,” Thor adds carefully, as if he can sense Bucky’s skittishness. “What say you to his odd behavior?”

Bucky thinks back to quiet afternoons and Tony’s high, childish voice reading a book on biological chemistry in fluent Italian, his small legs barely touching the edge of the couch. He thinks of Tony, the man, in his workshop with the world at his fingertips and the way he grinned at Bucky when they talked about his cars. He thinks of Tony saying Bucky was _home_ now, that the tower could be his sanctuary – that nothing and no one would hurt him again.

“Buck, what do you think?”

He remembers the way his heart had shattered at the sight of the empty Iron Man suit, at the fear that had clawed its way into his mind and caused him to attack anyone who tried to come close to it for nearly an hour.

“He’s fine,” he says, in a hoarse voice. “He’s… he’ll be fine. Just… just leave him alone.”

Bucky looks back down at the screen.

###

The thing is, they’d been taking things slow.

They hadn’t told the team because there was nothing to tell, really. Not yet. They hadn’t even kissed or so much as held hands but there was a _spark_ , that hint of something that grew each day as Bucky spent more and more time in the workshop and Tony let him.

Bucky felt safe with Tony. He didn’t ask questions about what was done to him or what he was made to do, or look at him with suspicion or blame or worry. There wasn’t the weight of expectations or a history shared laid on his shoulders and at his feet. In the quiet spaces he allowed, Tony was a refuge. He had been Bucky’s asylum.

Only Tony knew how Bucky’s laughter sounded now, the way his eyes would crinkle when he grinned, _really_ grinned, or the bad jokes he could tell. Only Tony knew how bad the nightmares could get, what to say to make the residual fear and pain subside.

Steve couldn’t understand, not when he looked at Bucky with such misplaced hope. Not when he looked at Tony with such misplaced love.

They both knew; Bucky and Tony knew that they were headed towards the same destination. Eventually they would reach it. Eventually they would have to tell Steve and shatter his illusions of the future. They lived under the false expectation of tomorrow; the only thing to fear being death and the team's reaction.

And now Tony, _his_ Tony was gone and it was all his fault for not being stronger, for being distracted, for being so damn _weak_.

They’d been taking things slow.

And now no one but Bucky knows what else has been lost.

###

One night, before the nightmares come, he jerks awake at the sound of JARVIS’ voice calling out.

There is no in between state: one moment, he is sleeping and the next, he’s blinking wide-eyed into the corners of his darkened room, alert.

“I apologize for waking you but Sir is in need of assistance.”

Without hesitation, Bucky gets to his feet and rushes out his room, uncaring of his disheveled state. In the beginning, they all took turns staying on the communal floor in the room next to Tony’s. After a few weeks though, when it was clear who Tony favored, Bucky moved his things into the bedroom and never bothered going back to his floor.

The doors slide open and he runs in, falling to his knees beside Tony on the floor next to his bed. He is crying, _wailing,_ and the sound is torture to Bucky’s heart.

Distantly, he hears footsteps moving towards him but he ignores them.

The boy is curled up on his side, his knees bent to his chest and his hands gripping at the sides of his head. He is in agony, his eyes scrunched up and his skin blotchy and waxy all at once.

Adrenaline pumping, Bucky grabs him and pushes him upright, sitting him up. His body is so small and Bucky is so afraid of breaking him that he wants to cry himself. “Tony, it’s me.  It’s Bucky. It’s me, sweetheart, it’s Bucky.”

Tony’s cheeks are wet with tears and drool. Bucky presses his hands over Tony’s, looking into his face. “Come on, look at me, Tony. It’s Bucky. Look at me.”

“What’s going on?”

“Bucky, what happened?”

He hears Rhodey and Steve behind him demanding answers but pushes them out of his mind

Tony takes a deep, shuddering breath and Bucky can see the way his thin chest struggles against a sob. His eyes snap open and focus and he stills, suddenly frozen in Bucky’s hold. His voice wavers as he says, “Bucky?”

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s me.” Bucky smiles, or at least tries, and then gently, _carefully_ pulls Tony close and holds him against his chest. He looks up at Steve and Rhodey, both sleep-rumpled and worried, and motions for them to stop speaking.

Tony falls into him willingly and Bucky leans back, pressing his heels on the floor and wrapping his legs around Tony’s body, letting the boy hide in his arms. “What happened, sweetheart? What’s going on?”

Tony whispers against his shoulder, voice watery and thin. “Drill. Drill. Drill, drill, _drilldrilldrill_.”

It is as if a sliver of ice tears down between his ribs. Bucky presses his cheek against the soft fuzz of Tony’s head, feeling scar tissue under his skin, and tightens his grip around the tiny body. He glares at Steve and Rhodey, now with Bruce, Clint, Natasha and Thor too, and almost dares them to approach him, to try and touch Tony within the safety of his arms. His heart is pounding, ready for a fight.

No one is taking Tony from him, now or ever.

“It was a dream,” Bucky says softly. He knows it’s a lie, knows that Tony is only reliving horrors, not imagining them but Tony is shaking in his arms. His skin is too cool, too clammy to be a result of anything but shock and Bucky rubs his hands up and down Tony’s arms.

“You’re awake now and you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.”

“No hurt, no hurt,” Tony repeats, all his articulate speech gone, dulled down to repeated phrases through sheer terror. “Please. No drill.”

Grief and guilt mingle together and Bucky grits his teeth.

“Never,” Bucky promises, “No one will lay a finger on you again. No more, Tony, you’re safe now, I swear.”

They sit on the floor until Tony slowly calms, with the rest of the team looking down on them. 

He allows Bruce to look over Tony but only within the safety of his arms. No force on earth could make Bucky let Tony go now.

###

Weeks pass.

Tony’s nightmares get worse. He never leaves Bucky’s side.

The bear has been abandoned, relegated to the pile of untouched toys and games in a corner of Tony’s room. Instead he clutches a tablet to himself nearly as wide as his chest, tapping happily away at it as Bucky prepares their meals or sits beside him in the library. Sometimes Tony speaks to JARVIS but as long he isn’t crying, or upset in any way, as long as he occasionally smiles sunshiny-sweet up at Bucky, the man is content to let the words between them flow uninterrupted.

He knows the team is even more worried, their concern heightened now as Tony begins to get _taller_. He looks more like a seven year-old now, still small and thin, but the rounded babyish curve of his cheeks are slimming down and his pants are beginning to look too short.

Tony stops taking the tests and submitting to exams. He sits at the desk and stares into space, unwilling to pick up a pen or turn on the laptop they use to track his progress. When they try and force him to acquiesce he turns to Bucky with wide, watery eyes in quiet supplication. 

_“Bucky, don’t let them take me. Help me, Bucky, help me!”_

Bucky crosses his arms and stares down the scientists when they come around, only letting Bruce look over Tony and just barely, even then. They stop coming altogether when JARVIS simply locks them out, day after day.

Tony is beginning to age but there’s no denying that there is still something terribly wrong with him.

“You have to let them take a look at him, Bucky,” Steve tells him in low tones. Tony sits a few feet away from them, tablet at his side and a mess of metal parts on his lap. Though he isn't smiling he looks happy, his eyes bright with excitement and interest as he screws together pieces. “He’s growing up. We need to know if the damage to his brain is healing too. He screams himself awake every night now. If we don’t figure this out, we could have to–”

“You’re not touching him.” Bucky looks at Steve, feeling a low simmer of angry at the thought of another blade cutting into Tony. His hair has finally grown in, thick and brown, but Bucky knows the scars hidden beneath. “No one is going to lay another hand on him.”

“That’s not up to you,” Steve snaps. He cuts himself off and runs his hand over his face tiredly, letting out a sigh.

When he looks back at Bucky, his expression is sad. “Look, the both of you are too dependent on each other. He’s latched on to you because of Hydra; he knows you’ve been through hell like he has. But Buck, you’re letting your guilt get the best of you. It wasn’t your fault he got taken in the first place–”

“Shut up.”

“They weren’t after you, you know this. They were gunning after Tony the whole time, you were just there and–”

“Steve, stop talking.”

“It wasn’t your fault but Bucky, you can’t get in the way of letting the doctors help Tony. I know you feel responsible for what happened to him but you’re only hurting him–”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Bucky stands up and moves towards Steve, rage and shame running through his veins. He wants to reach out and tear into the other man, rip his flesh apart and dig his fingers into his eyes. Steve doesn’t know what Bucky’s lost, he doesn’t know how much it hurts to hear Tony crying because of the nightmares, he doesn’t _know anything._

He crouches, ready to barrel into him, ready to _fight_ when he feels a small hand at his elbow.

“No, Bucky.” Bucky turns around and Tony looks up at him, his face pale but determined, his dark eyes calm. “Don’t.”

Bucky feels something inside of him crumple and he feels hot tears spill over his cheeks when Tony pulls him down into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out as he holds onto the smaller body. “I’m so, so sorry I let them take you. I’m sorry I let them hurt you.”

Tony’s skinny arms hug him back tightly and then he is being pulled away, weeping and thrashing against Steve. He hears Tony's panicked cries and it makes him panic too. He screams, afraid and lonely, reaching out for Tony when he feels a sharp pain at his neck and then–

Darkness.

###

He’s sequestered to his floor.

Sam stays with him, tries to explain _unhealthy coping mechanisms_ and _survivor’s guilt_. He tries to talk to Bucky about Tony’s worrying behavior, his _reduced affect display_ , his long bouts of silence.

Bucky ignores him.

JARVIS livestreams videos to his screens when no one is looking and Bucky is only slightly placated at the sight of a healthy, unbothered Tony. Steve is with him now, trying to get Tony to play with his toys or read a book with him.

Tony only fiddles with his metal parts, keeping his tools and his tablet close by at all times.

“You come get me, JARVIS. If it sounds like they’re going to cut into him, you come get me,” Bucky says when he is finally left alone at night. “We can’t let them do that again. I… I can’t.”

JARVIS is quiet for a moment and Bucky looks back down at the screen, at Tony asleep in his bed.

He knows Steve stays next door to him now, ready in case of a nightmare.

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS’ smooth, calm voice says. “We will take care of Sir. For now, Sir has asked you stay in your quarters without complaint. ”

And so Bucky does.

Sam has him meet with other people. They ask him questions, poke at his hurts and sore spots and he tries not to lash out even though his arm twitches, the metal plates opening and closing with the struggle to stay calm.

Steve comes by and tries to get him to talk, tries to get him to eat and respond as he used to. He tells Bucky he is sorry, that this is all for his own good and that soon enough, they’ll let him out again, once they’re sure Tony is on the way to recovering.

He tries not to cry, not to break apart when Rhodey sits across from him and says, “You’re a good man, Barnes. I know you only want to help him. We want to help you too.”

Bucky waits, restless and tired, away from Tony.

###

Bucky dreams.

Tony is a man again, standing next to his ruined suit and grinning. In his hand is a drill.

With his thumb, he turns it on.

“Hey Bucky,” he says cheerfully. “They had me for three weeks, didn’t they? Three whole weeks. Wanna know what they did to me?”

Bucky tries to reach him, tries to stop Tony as he raises the drill to his head, but his feet are stuck to the floor. When he looks down, he is covered in blood and gore, keeping him in position.

“Tony,” he says in a low pained moan. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Please don’t–“

The drill is only an inch away from Tony’s ear but he keeps smiling, keeps his teeth bared as he speaks. “Every day, Buckster. They cut into me each and every day. I felt it all, every cut, every slice, every _drill._ ”

Bucky cries as the drill touches flesh. He claws at his own feet until he draws blood. He would cut off his own legs and crawl to Tony if he only had a knife.

“Every day, Bucky! They did this every single day!”

All he wants to do is save Tony, _help Tony, get Tony BACK–_

###

He wakes up to a series of explosions and then sirens and flashing lights.

For a moment, he freezes in place, taking note of his surroundings in one sweeping look.

Tony stands by his bed, his dark hair ruffled around his head like a halo. He looks at Bucky with wide eyes before he grins and leaps into the bed with open arms.

“Bucky!”

Startled, Bucky sits up and hugs him back reflexively. “JARVIS? Tony? What’s happening? How did you get down here? What–“

“Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong!” Tony says cheerfully. Bucky pulls back from him and realizes how big he’s gotten. His limbs are longer and his face has lost nearly all of its baby-like features. Tony is a young boy now, easily ten or eleven. It is one thing to see his rapid growth on the screen, another to witness its effects live.

He feels a slight pang of loss at the small boy who clutched at his pant legs, arm tucked around a bear.

“The sirens are going to stop in three, two…” Tony looks up and cheers when the alarms quiet and the lights become steady once again. “See? Told you.”

“Tony, what are you doing here?” Bucky asks again, looking into the boy’s face. He looks unhurt but Bucky is still unsure, still worried. “Where is everyone? What’s happened?”

“They’re all unconscious now, or dead,” Tony says calmly. “I tried to leave my room but I ran into Thor. I didn’t want to hurt him but he tried to stop me. He tried to pick me up and stop me. And then Steve and Clint and Natasha came too. They all tried to stop me.”

Bucky blinks, not understanding. “What are you talking about?”

“I had to deploy the explosives because they were standing in my way,” Tony says patiently. “I was going to sneak out and come get you so we could go without anyone knowing until morning. I didn’t want to hurt them but they forced my hand.”

“How?” Bucky shifts away and runs his fingers through his hair, willing himself to make sense of everything Tony is telling him. “Go… go where, Tony? What are you–”

“You know what Hydra did to me,” Tony says, growing solemn. His eyes are almost luminous as he speaks. “They hurt me and they hurt you. It's why I chose you. Only you'd understand out of everyone here. You're the only one I could trust to _know_. It’s time we hurt them back, don't you think?”

Then he leans forward and grins his little-boy grin, mischievous and sweet. “But you knew I was planning this, didn’t you? You let me.”

Bucky doesn’t shake his head or deny it. He’s heard the conversations between Tony and JARVIS for months now, has watched his small fingers deftly build and create bombs and weapons right in front of their faces without anyone except for him realizing. He knows Tony has been hacking and sneaking his way into various databases, mining through information with a mind that Hydra built to be faster, colder, sharper.

They never even considered what a mind like that could do against them.

“You killed the others,” Bucky says.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Like you cared about any of them. They were in your way too. Anyway, Steve’s probably still alive. Definitely Thor. They’re built like tanks.”

“And Rhodey?”

A flash of sadness crosses over Tony’s face. “Gas in his room before he could join the others. He’ll be out for hours. The fire won’t get to him, don’t worry.”

And then Tony presses his lips together impatiently. “Now come on, we have to go! The fire trucks are on their way and I’m sure your super soldier buddy will wake up soon. I have our backpacks outside and access to all the money we need so you can leave all of your stuff behind.”

Bucky says nothing as Tony jumps off the bed and walks to his closet, throwing clothing at him. He puts them all on without complaint, mind whirling and speeding forward into possible escape routes. He looks up at the ceiling and isn’t surprised at all to hear JARVIS speak up.

“We have several homes prepared that are unlisted and unmarked, Sergeant Barnes. I have a car waiting for you and Sir outside, though I must urge you to hurry as the authorities are on their way.”  

Tony looks at Bucky with a triumphant expression and for the first time, Bucky notices he is clutching his tablet to his chest. Tony looks down and pats it sheepishly.

“JARVIS has to come with us, right?” he says. “It’s gonna be me, you and JARVIS from now on.”

He reaches out to Bucky with one hand.

Bucky reaches back.

 

End

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to add this to the notes above since it's a spoiler but I also wanted to write a villain/sociopath Tony fic. I still might, actually - who knows? Anyway, let me know if you see any misspellings or grammatical mistakes. I don't have a beta.


End file.
